


Aint this a Lamia

by Kamari333



Series: ain't this a lamia [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Bathing/Washing, Cat, Cell Phones, Fingerfucking, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, Lamia, Lamiatale Sans (Undertale), Lamiatale Sans/Underfell Sans (Undertale), Language Barrier, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Polyamory, Porn Video, Sans/Underfell Papyrus/Underfell Sans (Undertale), Sexting, Suggestive Themes, Teasing, The Significance of Food in Fell-Verse Culture, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), canon-typical bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333
Summary: An "Aint this the Life" AU (lets all thankNilchanceagain for their beautiful fic).Red and Edge find something in their livingroom. It immediately catches Edge's attention. As usual, anything Edge likes, Red needs to test drive.
Relationships: Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Series: ain't this a lamia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641097
Comments: 43
Kudos: 239





	1. Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [ain't this the life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319578) by [nilchance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/pseuds/nilchance). 



> Part of the 2019 NSFW Secret Santa run by Soul on Discord  
>   
> Merry Giftmas and Happy Newyear, "BigBitchBot" (bkat? bkat!!) !! I was your secret santa!!
> 
> I struggled trying to figure out what to write for you, until you mentioned you liked Nil's series. I've already written an AU for their stuff before and had plans to do it again (because I am also a huge fan huehuehue). And then I saw you liked lamia and I-
> 
> Well, this is what came of it.
> 
> To be honest I'm still super nervous, wondering if you're going to like it or not. I hope you do!! Its not as smutty as it could have been because writers block is a bitch. But I hope you like it!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why they have cats.

Edge lay curled in bed with his back to the wall, breathing slow in the dark of the night. The faint scream of silence (only broken by the occasional settling of the house, the distant roar of midnight traffic, the antics of his cats, and the occasional bout of deep, heavy breathing from his brother down the hall) was as calming as it was unsettling: even after all this time, silence still occasionally sent Edge's body into overdrive, tense as a coiled spring in a shitty mattress, awaiting the proverbial other shoe.

On most nights, that shoe never fell, leaving Edge to lay awake clutching tight to whatever happened to be on hand ( _a pillow, a coat, a fistful of his sheets, his scarf, anything to give him the illusion that his arms were full when his brother wasn't in the right mood to indulge him_ ) until morning, when he could begin again his activities without tipping Red off that anything was amiss ( _no more than Red could read on his face, no more than one would expect, never enough to bait him like a shark smelling blood in the water_ ). Tonight, however, Edge could hear something moving in the livingroom, feel the beat of a soul on the prowl. A part of him was urged to go and investigate, to catch the alleged invader and expel them from the sanctity of his home (preferably with a few new scars and bruises for their trouble); the other part of him scolded himself harshly, saying it was one of the cats making a nuisance of itself and to pay no mind.

The latter part was proven wrong when a loud _thump_ was quickly followed by an angry _hiss_ , along with the crash of something fragile being broken.

Edge jumped to his feet, summoning a bit of magic to his hand, forming a blunt weapon shaped like a thick femur. He threw his door open and charged downstairs to catch the perpetrator. A soft displacement of air and the sudden bloodlust permeating it like ink in water told him that Red had also been alerted, and (as always) was a few steps ahead.

The livingroom was dark, the single flaring bit of crimson light spilling from Red's sockets the only thing Edge could see. There was another angry hiss, another thump (this one coming from the couch). Edge hit the wall twice before finding the light switch, flipping on the overhead light they never really used just in time to see The Stray run from behind the couch like a demon from hell, trip over her own feet uncharacteristically, and slam into Edge's ankles, limp as a doll.

The lamp by the couch had been knocked off the table, shattering the lightbulb and leaving a number of glittering shards of glass all over the carpet at Red's feet. The couch looked to be a few inches out of place, pushed out from the wall far enough that a person could easily slide behind it.

Doomfanger darted from the kitchen doorway (immediately investigating The Stray), proving that whatever they could hear moving behind the couch was not a member of the household. Red, in nothing but his collar and a single sock ( _because stars forbid he sleep in his fucking pajamas, not like he and Papyrus hadn't gotten them for him specifically for that very reason_ ) put up a small blockade of bones around the couch, his every move deft and precise to conserve energy as he worked through tension that would have put any other creature into rigor mortis.

If the way Red glanced at the creature laying motionless at Edge's feet were any indication, it may damn well do so anyway: Red's eyelights sparked with the ageless gold of the Judge, no doubt screaming in his skull denouncements unending, but his grin was sharp as the headsman's axe, held at the ready for the execution.

Edge made a quick motion with his hand, eyeing the couch warily once more before crouching down to scoop up The Stray for inspection. He could feel the little thing's heartbeat flutter steadily under his hands. There was a dampness Edge immediately didn't like, his fingers coming away spotted with rusty stains. Further inspection found the fur of one leg discolored, two shallow puncture marks welling slow with red.

"A BITE." Edge kept his voice neutral. Doomfanger growled as if she understood, weaving between Edge's legs as her tail thrashed in outrage, personally insulted by the whole situation.

"a bite," Red parroted, cracking his neck as he returned his full attention to the couch. "should be easy to return the favor, then, huh boss." It was no more a question than the color of the sky. Doomfanger hissed, arching her back and squaring off against the furniture currently the only thing standing between the intruder and a painful death.

Edge wrestled his own rage down with great discipline, stroking over The Stray in an attempt to keep her calm. The kitten barely twitched, although a pitiful whine crawled up her throat to squeeze out from between her parted teeth.

Edge hoped whatever venom had paralyzed her wasn't fatal.

Something bumped up against on of Red's bone attacks. The bone dematerialized, but there was a pained noise, and another _thump_ as whatever they had trapped back there flinched away.

Edge gently placed the Stray on the stairs, stroking gently over her fur a few more times before turning back to the intruder, attack in hand. He crept up to the couch, getting on top of it to look over the back.

Behind the couch was maybe six feet of a blue mass with gold stripes, squirming against the carpet below and thumping on the wall and back of the couch. It started off tapered and thin, getting as thick as a small barrel before terminating in a (more humanoid) skeleton's rib cage. If Edge squinted, he could see how the spine actually continued in the ecto, holding the structure with wide, crescent ribs until it shifted to something more like his own shape. Two skeletal arms curled around the exposed torso, hiding the creature's face as it shook, clutching the very end of its tail that had no doubt suffered his brother's attack.

"REMOVE THE BLOCKADE ON THE LEFT," Edge commanded. He did not wait for Red's compliance, only using a bit of BLUE magic to grip onto the intruder's soul. As he expected, it responded violently to the sensation, hissing and thrashing. Edge dragged it to the left, out of the gap Red had made on his word, and slammed it into the wall to pin it in place.

The creature's whole body jolted at impact, uncurling under the pressure that held it against the wall, it's arms pressed hard at its sides and head upright despite its attempts to curl up for protection.

Edge nearly dropped his hold upon seeing the creature's face; soft curved jaw and wide orbits, small, unfocused eyelights jittering in fear.

"oh _fuck me_." The words were a dam breaking, Red's murderous intent dropping out of him like sand from a broken hourglass, the abruptness of its absence more unnerving than its presence. His attacks vanished, but the tension never really left, just making his next few motions twitchy and forced. Red snagged the blanket off the couch, holding it out like a barrier between the creature ( _the Lamia? Edge had never seen one, never mind a skeletal variant: Aaron was the closest thing to it, and even he was a very different beast_ ) and his naked bones.

"IT IS VENOMOUS," Edge warned, glancing at The Stray briefly: seeing its tiny body still breathing was a small comfort, but he still wanted to get her to a vet as soon as possible.

"no shit," Red muttered. "but your happy ass can't hold it there forever now can it?"

Edge grit his teeth, focusing on keeping the lamia pinned as his brother drew closer, closer, and then pounced, wrapping the creature's limbs up in the blanket quickly and sitting on its- his- tail. The lamia thrashed, trying to bite Red, jaw snapping far too close for Edge's comfort.

"thing's weak as a damn kitten," Red marveled, not even out of breath as he maneuvered the squirming creature so his back was pinned to Red's chest, straddling his tail as if he were riding a horse. The subtle jab made Edge look back at The Stray again, sizing her up against the opponent that had lain her so low.

The lamia thrashed and hissed uselessly under Red, before going still, sagging as his bones rattled and he panted like a dog. He was covered in shallow scratch marks along his face and shoulders, sure signs that the Stray had gone down fighting. The few spots of blood on his face were smeared, wiped at. There were dark stains along the bottom of his sockets, a sign Edge had seen on too many faces in his life.

"go get rope." Red's voice dragged Edge's attention back to his brother. Red was glaring at him, crimson eyelights boring into Edge, harsh with the dare, his hackles having risen at the first smell of weakness.

"WHEN DID YOU BECOME AN EXPERT IN LAMIA WRANGLING," Edge said dryly, finally relaxing his magic. Drawing attention to the metaphorical open wounds they were both nursing wouldn't do either of them any favors.

"watched a documentary."

"PORN IS NOT A DOCUMENTARY."

"neither is your face, go get the shit."

Edge glanced back to The Stray, then at the snake. Then he jogged up the stairs to his room, knowing exactly what Red was talking about. He pulled out one of the many lengths of rope he had stored away for a rainy (or not-so-rainy) day, as well as a rubber bit gag they'd bought but never used. As a quick precaution, Edge also pulled on the thick padded gloves he used when Red was especially bitey, flexing twice before again picking up his tools and bounding back downstairs.

Red still had the Lamia in hand. The snake hung limp, slumped in Red's arms, slitted eyelights downcast as he continued to shake. Edge knelt down in front of them, setting the rope aside to apply the gag first.

The lamia started to struggle anew, hissing and snapping at Edge with enough ferocity that Edge instinctively reared back.

"chill the fuck out," Red growled against the snake's skull, tightening his grip and yanking back to bend the snake's spine at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. "rather we kill ya and yank them pretty fangs out of your dust?"

The lamia went still, wincing, his whole body tense from the threat of pain.

Edge gripped the creature's chin, trying to be gentle. "DO YOU THINK IT CAN UNDERSTAND US?"

"its a snake, boss."

"HE IS A MONSTER."

"monsters dont eat cats."

"THEY DO IF THEY'RE HUNGRY ENOUGH," Edge muttered, sharing a look with Red over the creature's shoulder. Neither one of them were strangers to hunger, to desperation. "AND I SEEM TO RECALL YOU SUGGESTING WE DO SOMETHING SIMILAR WITH DOOMFANGER."

Red sat still for a moment, before his grin quirked up sharp. "heh."

Neither of them seemed keen on acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Edge looked back to the lamia. "WE WILL NOT HURT YOU IF YOU COOPERATE. CAN YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

The lamia made a heartrendingly familiar clicking sound, the noise of a skeleton swallowing on nothing. Edge felt the head in his hand nod. Tiny eyelights looked up at him.

 _Fuck_ , indeed.

* * *

Edge took over holding onto the lamia for just as long as it took Red to get dressed. They did end up tying the creature's arms up in the blanket, a precaution Red insisted on for during the drive to the emergency veterinary clinic (no way in hell would they be leaving the damn thing alone in their house, sapient or not). The lamia avoided eye contact, but didn't struggle half as much as Red expected it to when Edge picked it up to carry to the car over his shoulder. The long tail still dragged a few inches on the ground, even with Edge's extra height, making the thing whimper. Red watched a few cerulean scales tear, peeling like dead skin.

Red hadn't known ecto flesh could even _do_ that.

Red wondered if Edge could tell how cold the snake was through his gloves, how absolutely freezing those icy blue scales were to the touch. Red's femurs and pelvis were still uncomfortably cold after sitting on it bareback.

Packing The Stray in the carrier (which Edge had insisted on getting for their feline roommates), Red carried it out to the car and sat shotgun with the thing in his lap. Edge had lain the snake in the back, its long tail taking up most of the seat despite its best efforts to curl up in the blanket.

The drive was uncomfortably long, leaving Red to stew in his own tension and irritability. His leg jittered under the cat carrier until he consciously forced it to still, fingers itching to do something –- _light a cigarette, strangle someone to death, jack off, he wasn't picky_ –- and protesting the lack of an outlet by pricking at Red as though on fire. He could see the fleeting glances Edge kept throwing his way, stoic and unyielding in his diligence. Red curled his smirk back into a sneer, daring his brother to say a fucking word.

Red was holding the cat so the damn snake wouldn't get it. If _he_ didn't, then _Edge_ would, and then he might crash and die stupidly; and it was just easier to hold the god damn cat and had nothing to do with Red's feelings one way or another.

Of course, they could have saved themselves a hell of a lot of trouble by just killing the snake...

Red looked into the back seat again, scanning the lamia. It'd pressed itself as hard into the seat back as possible, its long tail coiling in on itself to hide its face. A few more flecks of dried ecto had flaked off, scratched away on the seat to speckle the interior in powder blue. What few fleeting glimpses of the lamia's expression Red could catch were filled with petulance and resignation, open, unshielded emotion diluted by stress so severe it was literally making him lose skin over it.

It was almost boring how easy it was to read the creature, not half as interesting as the other monster who wore that face.

Once at the clinic, Edge took The Stray and rushed inside, leaving Red to guard the snake. Red opened his door, pulling out his smokes to finally light one and settle his jitters to something a bit more manageable. His head was killing him, a soft burn in the back of his sockets from interrupted sleep and the sudden adrenaline coursing bright and hot through his marrow. The early winter wind blew crisp against his face, ruffling the fluff of his coat and blowing the smoke away from the car. The cold was a miracle drug for cutting through the bullshit in his head.

No place like home, and all that.

After a few drags, Red glanced back at the snake again. The lamia was still boringly dejected and broken, frustratingly docile now that it was wrapped up. Red glared at the motionless reptile so long that the cherry of his cigarette burned low enough to scorch his fingers. Cursing, he dropped it to the ground and stomped it out, before grudgingly picking it up to toss away later. Red could feel the tension crawling through him: he had no doubt that if some poor shmuck got on his ass for littering, he'd cheerfully rip out their throat with his teeth.

He could really go for some teeth-on-throat action, now that he thought about it.

Aggravation only mildly lessened, Red sat back in the car and slammed the door closed, looking back at the snake. It still hadn't moved, not one inch, since he last checked on it. "practicing to be a rug? pretty sure you're better suited for boots."

No response, not even a twitch.

Red snapped his fingers. "hey. i'm talking to you, asshole."

 _So much for understanding them._ Edge was crazy. Red flipped his phone open, texting the next person who needed to know about their new annoyance. Maybe he should have hesitated when he saw the time, but Red wasn't in the kind of mood where he spared any processing power for niceties or the convenience of others.

If he had to suffer, Sans had to suffer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red is a grumpy bastard.  
> Edge is weak.  
> Red is grumpy that Edge is weak.  
> Red is grumpy that he is also weak but will never admit to either of those statements.  
> Just. Lots of grumpiness.


	2. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Snake is staying I guess?  
> But obviously Red has to be an ass about it.

"so you just sat there." Sans spoke slow and even, as monotonous as he could manage (which, given his practice, was a hell of a lot).

"yup." Red answered, unrepentant as ever.

"in an open car."

"uh-huh."

"in the middle of november."

"mm-hmm."

"with a cold blooded animal in the back seat."

"well, when ya put it like that, of course its gonna sound bad."

Sans looked over to where Edge was meticulously wrapping up the aforementioned invader, swaddling a comatose lamia in layer upon layer of blankets. He pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. A length of rope had been tossed aside, having served its purpose.

"blankets wont work, unless they're electric. lamiae are ectothermic."

"and how would you know?" Red asked, every twitch signaling to Sans that he was close to his limit, the stress of a new creature suddenly invading his sanctum pushing him to the edge of his already meager patience. The dim of the room, with the curtains drawn shut on a cloudy day and the singular lamp suspiciously absent, made the tiny flares of color in his sockets, in his joints, that much more noticeable.

"documentary."

Red opened his mouth to retort, all power rerouted to his smugness functionality, only for Edge to cut him off with, "WE ALREADY DID THAT BIT. HOW DO WE WARM AN 'ECTOTHERMIC' CREATURE?"

Sans smiled, winking at Red knowingly. "an electric blanket would work, but if you don't have one, body heat. meaning one of you is gonna have to get all snuggly with the snake." Since Sans still ran rather cold, the meager heat he could give off in his condition wouldn't be nearly enough.

"AND I HAVE TO GO TO WORK," Edge mused aloud. The way Edge continued to hover, lingering with his hands still on the blankets, spoke volumes about what he would rather be doing. It was not often Edge showed any sort of preference that ran in opposition with his sense of duty. Gloved fingers twitched against still fabric that sat inert and useless around an equally still form, holding that intense, burning gaze for a breath longer than necessary.

Then the moment was over, and Edge turned to give Red a pointed look. "DO NOT BURN THE HOUSE DOWN WHILE I AM GONE."

Red's returning smirk was a challenge, an unspoken raise to a callously flung bet. The sight sent an inappropriately timed jolt of lightning up Sans' spine, and he thanked his lucky stars –- which seemed so much more eager to please as of late –- that Red had directed the look at Edge (who appeared criminally unaffected).

"no promises." The words doubled back on themselves coming from Red's tongue, nuance and meaning crossing and overlapping in a tangled mess that would have made anyone else's head spin trying to untangle and make sense of it.

Edge, nothing but brisk efficiency and blatant trust, pulled his coat and shoes back on, giving the both of them his back. "SANS, IF YOU-"

"i'm not going anywhere," Sans assured him. Whether Edge was planning to offer him a ride, or ask him to help (with the snake, with the tension keeping Red lit up like an exposed wire), there was no need to finish the sentence.

Edge nodded curtly, only casting the both of them one final glance before reluctantly making himself leave.

Neither Sans nor Red moved until they heard the car pull away and not-quite-speed off.

"now then..." Red licked his false tooth, a thoughtful little tell that Sans had unfortunately begun to associate with certain activities, making him salivate like one of Pavlov's dogs. "if it's body heat we need, better show me how its done, sweetheart."

Sans swallowed, flipping Red off as he purposefully approached the couch and sat down on one side of the blanket pile. "you lay on the other side and-"

Red cut him off with a deft snap of his hand, slamming it into the back of the couch by his head as he loomed over Sans with abruptness that would have stunk of teleportation if Sans hadn't known better.

Sans looked up at Red's wide grin and sharp teeth, firmly controlling his hips to keep them from squirming as he kept his face as bored and unimpressed as possible. "really?"

"what can i say," Red practically purred, leaning in close enough Sans could smell the smoke on his breath. "not exactly in the best mood for this touchy feely bullshit."

Sans made a point of looking Red up and down, slowly, appraisingly. "ya don't say?"

"on a scale of sleepy hollow to the hydra, how likely am i to get head from ya?"

Sans smiled at that one, a compromise since Red did _not_ deserve to make him laugh this early in the god damn morning. "more likely if you have an electric blanket to put on this snake you let freeze. so... probably around nearly headless nick."

Red pulled back, all hunters elegance and predatory consideration, before sauntering like a cat who wanted his owner to know that it was _his_ idea to move, and had nothing to do with being shoved off the table. Sans watched him until he disappeared with a pop of rushing air, only to return moments later with an off-yellow electric blanket that he plugged in and draped over the blanket pile on the couch.

"howz about now?" Red asked, checking that the blanket covered the snake's nest entirely before looking back to Sans.

"you're request to join the headless hunt has been denied," Sans intoned, standing back up as he spoke, then giving a small stretch before heading up the stairs. He rubbed testingly at the joint of his jaw, preparing himself mentally for the long, arduous task of fellating Red back to sanity. Truly, Sans was a martyr of the greatest humility, to sacrifice himself to Red's carnal pleasure for the good of society.

The fact his magic was prickling at his pelvis with the insistence of a hungry dog -- his tongue already damp and heavy in his mouth, laving at the inside of his teeth in restless anticipation -- meant absolutely nothing.

* * *

Four hours later (a quarter of that spent in the bath), Red lead the way back downstairs to check on the snake. He was feeling... better. More lucid, less like a rubber band ready to snap. Sans had that effect on him, for better or worse.

The first thing Red noticed was that the pile of blankets had definitely moved, although not nearly enough for the snake inside to be seen. Holding out a hand to block Sans' way, Red gave him a stern look. "dont move."

Sans, infuriating as ever, stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, pulling out his phone to keep himself entertained as if there wasn't a venomous predator curled up on the couch five feet away. Sans' complete lack of any self preservation always managed to grind Red's gears, but at least this time Sans wasn't pushing it.

Little Miracles.

Red returned his attention to the pile of blankets, creeping up to it with his one arm out until it alighted on the electric blanket. "you up?"

Why Red bothered talking to a _fucking snake_ was beyond him.

Something moved under Red's hands, sliding slowly in great fluid arcs, until the blankets moved aside to let the lamia's head pop out. A long, blue forked tongue darted out, quivering as it sniffed the air. Eyelights, narrow and cautious –- an expression that dug at Red's last remaining sensibilities like a thumb grinding against a bruise –- looked up at them unflinching.

"ok, here's the ground rules," Red started. "this is our house. you don't eat the cats, you don't bite me, or boss, or sans, and we don't yeet your cold-blooded ass out into the snow. how's that sound?"

The lamia sniffed the air again with its tongue. "...nessssssssst?" The word was drawn out, careful, the 't' forced to sound with great effort. One hand snaked up, and pun aside, that was the only way to describe how the lamia moved: slow, elegant, telegraphed, deliberately easy to follow: if the fucker was trying to appear as none-threatening as possible, it couldn't have picked a better (or worse) way to do it. The hand, slender yet covered in scratches (no doubt some of which were from The Stray) reached to touch Red's, those slitted eyelights flickering between the hand and Red's face, a crack in the mask that no one else (except maybe Sans) would have noticed, the shredded ghost of nervousness and anxiety twisting like a knife at Red's soul, making his nonexistent blood boil.

Just looking at this stupid, uninteresting creature made Red want to strangle something.

The little hand made contact, bones warm after being under the heated blanket for so long. Red couldn't place why that felt strange to him, he only knew it was making him angrier. Hands too gentle lifted his, bringing it closer to the lamia's mouth-

Red thrust his hand forward, dipping it lower to grip at the fragile cervical vertebrae of the snake. "what i _just say_ about biting?"

The lamia went still, its grip on Red's wrist tightening. If Red squinted, he thought he might have seen a flash of color, soft blue airbrushed over the snake's nasal ridge, here and gone in an instant as the expressionless mask was slammed back on.

"no biiiiiiiiiiiite," the lamia rasped, again struggling to enunciate.

"thats right," Red growled. "so why the fuck did you think you could try that now?"

The lamia shook its head, eyelights flitting away. Another crack in its shields, a shy, defeated expression, something that _absolutely did not belong_ on that face (on a face that looked so much like Sans), made Red want to chew glass. He tightened his grip, tension streaming down his arm to clamp on that bare throat, a warning, then yanked his hand away.

"pizza or chinese?" Sans' voice broke through the veil of fury, his bored baritone knocking the freshly accumulated tension back out of Red with the swiftness of a swung hammer.

Red turned to Sans, taking him in (freshly laundered, a bit damp, flush with color and steaming). He could just make out the tip of the collar still wound securely around Sans' wrist. Closing the distance between them, Red slung his arm over Sans' shoulders. "chinese. duh. extra mustard seeds."

"you're disgusting." If there was something soft and fond woven in that statement of utter revulsion, Red chose to pay it absolutely no mind whatsoever. It was only polite.

"careful what you put in your mouth, sweetheart."

"yeah. guess paps is right, and i need to cut back on the junk food. no more head for you."

"we both know that's bullshit."

"really shouldn't be so hard on your dick. it tried its best."

Red dragged Sans into the kitchen, pinning him to the wall out of sight of the living room. He pressed his teeth to Sans' bare throat, grinning at the sound of his stuttered breathing, a sure sign Sans hadn't yet had the time to build up his metaphorical walls. "yeah. ya did didn't ya?"

If Red spent his time keeping Sans content to be pinned up like a fly, well, it only made the wait for lunch go by faster.

* * *

That night, Edge came home and made dinner as usual. Red managed to convince Sans to stay for it, pinning him with hungry eyes and filthy promises that would have had Sans running a year ago.

Looking back, Sans recalled doing a lot of running. He was much more lazy nowadays.

Ever since he started staying for dinner (or lunch, or breakfast), Sans was the first to be offered food. The brothers would watch him enjoy it with an intensity that would have had Sans squirming in his seat if he had the capacity to pay attention to both them and how god damn amazing Edge's home cooking was (usually he doesn't, so it wasn't a problem). That night, however, Sans could feel the difference in the air, the way Edge kept looking over his shoulder towards the kitchen doorway, toward the livingroom.

Sans knew he wouldn't be eating first that night long before Edge made the plate.

Edge wasn't the only one who had been taken with the new member of the household. Red kept shooting glances out the same doorway, glaring petulantly towards the couch. The unusual response had Sans paying closer attention to bastard, carefully angling his body to lean on Red for stability (contact was high-risk-high-reward when it came to Red, and Sans wasn't above abusing his luck in the game).

When Edge finally had the first plate prepared, he paused to share a look with his brother.

"just fucking do it," Red grumbled, dragging his claws soothingly over Sans' hip. "whatever ya want, boss."

When Edge still didn't move, Sans shot him a grin. "if you're worried about me, don't be. i'll still moan over your food for ya."

The flush that that earned Sans had Red cackling (draining away some of the fury that was ebbing and flowing like water in a wavepool), and Sans was happy to join in the joke. Edge composed himself, before marching into the livingroom with great purpose.

"cmon, lets go watch," Red whispered conspiratorially -- as though it wasn't obvious that they would be doing so from the beginning -- before getting up to follow.

Sans was on his heels.

Edge cleared his throat as he stood in front of the couch. "LAMIA. I HAVE A. PROPOSITION. IF YOU WOULD CARE TO LISTEN."

The blankets shifted, and again the snake poked his head out. That forked tongue again made an appearance, sniffing the air as the lamia looked up at Edge. He swallowed dryly, snuggling into the blankets as if coiling up to spring, his slitted eyelights blowing out wide upon catching sight (and presumably scent) of the plate of food. The brilliance of the emotion in his face was staggering, a contrast to the resting bitch face he had seen on him so far.

Edge nodded to him. "SINCE I AM AWARE YOU MAY NOT BE FAMILIAR WITH OUR CUSTOM. I AM OFFERING YOU FOOD. AND IN SO DOING, OFFERING YOU A HOME. SHELTER. A. RELATIONSHIP. WHICH YOU CAN EITHER ACCEPT OR DECLINE."

The lamia wiggled a bit, pulling up more from the blanket nest, revealing his full ribcage (covered in shallow scratches). "ffffood? nesssssssst? re- rela-" For a brief moment, there was a flash of frustration, then the snake adjusted his attempts. "...maaaaaaaate?" He still struggled with certain sounds.

"YES." The word was pulled out of Edge slowly, as if he were tasting its meaning on his tongue.

For a few seconds, the open emotion on the lamia's face vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating seriousness that more closely matched what Sans had observed. Then the lamia smiled, a vivid warmth as he reached for Edge, making grabby hands. Edge leaned down to offer the plate of food, which the lamia did take with one hand, but only so the other had a chance to secure itself to Edge's wrist. The snake set the plate aside, instead pulling Edge's empty hand up to his neck. "yoursssss?"

Sans felt Red shift at his side, his focus entirely on that gloved hand on the lamia's throat.

Edge was bright scarlet across his maxilla and nasal ridge, his eyelights burning embers smoldering at the sight under him. Sans felt a sympathetic shiver run through him just being in the same room as that look, never mind what his overactive imagination could conjure up about being the recipient of it.

"YES," Edge grit out slowly, the syllable bursting at the seams with virginal covetousness, strained and leashed by integrity that would rather hang itself than assume. "IF YOU DON'T MIND." Edge's body was locked up at the joints, his iron willpower holding himself back until he was absolutely certain he had the green light, but Sans could see his fingers flex around the lamia's throat, tightening before going lax, testing.

Sans could completely understand why the snake was holding that hand there.

The lamia blinked up at Edge, then squinted his sockets shut and began to rub his chin and teeth all over Edge's hand and wrist. Then, after sniffing the air with his tongue one last time, the lamia let go and turned his attention to the food he had been offered. He devoured it quickly, making soft noises of delight that bordered on the obscene.

_Was that what Sans sounded like to them?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans is just glad that Edge took so fast to the thing. Finding a home for a spontaneously materializing lamia would have been hell.


	3. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red gets over his bullshit enough to be horny

After that, the lamia stuck to Edge whenever Edge let him. The snake would slither between Edge's legs, nuzzling his hip when he walked or stood or did his chores; it would crawl into Edge's lap whenever he sat down, slotting itself under his arm and coiling as much of its tail around Edge's warm body as possible; it would try to sneak into bed with Edge at night, seeking out his body heat.

Edge welcomed the behavior with unfettered enthusiasm.

The whole situation, unfortunately, just kept fueling Red's irritability, stoking it so it never really burned out no matter how many times Edge fucked him, or Sans sucked him off. As much as Red wanted Edge to have everything he wanted, as much as he wanted Edge to enjoy his new pet -- and no matter how smart the damn thing proved to be, Red could only see it as a pet -- seeing the little shit all over his brother just made Red want to stab something until it stopped moving.

The more Red saw of the lamia, the more he disliked the damn thing, but for the life of him, he couldn't put his finger on why: it never hurt Edge; it never attacked the cats again (and The Stray came home three days later, largely unharmed and only mildly traumatized); it sucked up to Edge and gave him something to be soft on when Sans was gone, filling a hole in his brother's emotional needs Red had begun to wonder would ever be filled; it even left Red alone, staying out of his room and never bothering him for anything.

The lamia never even tried competing for Edge's attention, backing down the moment Red showed interest and slithering off to find a warm place to sleep (usually the laundry room, from what he noticed). The worst thing it did was shed, blue scales flaking and scattering wherever it slithered, and that wasn't even something it seemed able to control.

Even so, Red couldn't shake the feeling something was off, something he couldn't put his god damn finger on no matter how he tried, and it was _absolutely maddening_.

The idea that perhaps Red simply had a problem with reptiles in general crossed his mind, only to be swatted away and mentally incinerated for its blasphemous audacity.

Instead of heading for work, Red decided to do a bit of spying. He left with Edge out the door as usual, waiting until the car was well out of earshot before doubling back to the house via shortcut. He stepped silently onto the second floor landing, extinguishing his eyelights before peering down to the livingroom.

The lamia was coiling in front of the door, poised like a dog sitting on its haunches. It was a few more minutes before it moved, tongue tasting the air as it uncoiled to slither back to the couch. More of those damned blue scales scraped off, leaving another patch of powder on the carpeting. The lamia looked back down on itself, expression bland as it reached to scratch off more of the dead skin, tugging on larger pieces to rip them off and smooth over the area with the flat of its metacarpals.

The body language was painfully familiar, a near carbon copy of Sans' natural defenses, save for the lack of any attempt at a smile coupled with a cool, calculating stare drinking in the world around it. The action itself, however, stirred the waters of old, forgotten memories: a few flitting sensations, echoes over dirty tile, the smell of salt and musk and depression, desperation and exhausted sighs, a voice saying a name he had long since parted with, in a way that made bile rise in his throat.

The snake circled over the cushions twice, making sure its whole tail was on the couch, before swiping up the remote and turning the TV on to a cartoon channel, which it stared at unblinkingly after turning the volume down so low Red could barely make it out.

The white noise stirred those muddied waters in his head again, shreds of memories he fought to drown out of spite. Red forced his grip on the railing to relax, not wanting the sound of splintering wood to alert the snake to his presence.

The lamia yawned, stretching its mouth as wide as it could get without unhinging its jaw, before pulling a pillow under its head for comfort. It huffed out a sigh, settling in for a nap, from all appearances.

Then Red's phone buzzed, loud in the near silence. The snake immediately went on alert, perking up and sniffing the air. Thinking fast, Red set his phone down on the landing, shortcutting to his bedroom to watch through a crack in the door.

Quickly, the lamia made its way up the stairs, posture that of one ready to strike (as if this were _its_ home to defend, _its_ territory, and any intrusion to it was punishable by death). After whipping its tongue around to smell for anything unusual (and finding nothing: Red's smell was all over the fucking house by his own design -- there was no way the snake could tell whether he was there or not by smell alone), it relaxed its posture and slunk over to inspect the phone.

As if on cue, the device buzzed again. The lamia smirked, a wry expression that Red was sure meant nothing particularly good. It picked up his phone, and with a speed that had Red incredibly nervous, began to navigate the thing. It headed back downstairs with it, and when Red again returned to his hiding spot and looked down from the landing, he could see the snake laying on its back, playing with his phone with a competency he hadn't expected.

Red watched it amuse itself for nearly an hour before the doorbell rang. The lamia perked up, setting the phone aside for the first time since finding it, and slunk to the door. It opened it, pouncing out with a loud hiss. Red heard a scream, high pitched and terrified, and something hitting the ground before the retreat of frantic footsteps.

Then Red heard a chuckle, low and self satisfied, a noise that clawed down his spine like a cat clinging futilely to the curtains, leaving marks as gravity dragged it down to settle on the floor (or in this case, Red's pelvis). Seconds later, the lamia came slithering back inside, clutching a battered box of pizza that was dusted faintly in snow. The snake shivered as it leaned against the door to shut it properly, before hurrying quickly back to the warmth of the couch. It settled the box on the softer ecto of its tail, sighing at the comforting heat, before opening it properly and partaking of the badly shaken meaty supreme with extra sausage.

A wry, crooked grin spread across its fanged smile, before opening to rip into a slice of cheesy, gooey, meaty heaven.

Red backed away, shortcutting outside. He walked around in the snow for a while, evaluating and reevaluating everything he'd seen, then headed back to the front door and walked inside.

After shaking the snow off his boots, Red scanned the room. There was no sign of the pizza, save a few lingering smells that Red doubted he would have thought twice about if he wasn't looking for it. The snake was curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow and pretending to be asleep ( _it had to be pretending, and Red kicked himself for not noticing it before, not questioning why a predator like a lamia would sleep through having someone come into its designated territory_ ), only to 'wake up' with a soft shake and blink up at Red in mock surprise.

The lamia took in Red's return, put the pillow back where it belonged on the end of the couch, and began to slither away, headed once more for the laundry room. Retreating. Giving Red ground without a fight or a second glance.

The lack of anything to fight once more tested Red's patience. The damn snake was _absolutely_ doing it just to spite him, a passive aggression so passive Red just didn't have the capacity to process it.

But Red could play mind games too. He picked his phone up off the table, making a show of inspecting it. "stealing now, are ya?"

The lamia froze, head turning slowly to face Red, eyelights narrow slits. Was that fear? Or anger? Red would hedge his bets it was the latter masquerading as the former, the reptilian bastard fighting tooth and nail to appear as impotent and meek as possible (with infuriatingly good results). It slow-blinked, then simply lay itself on the floor, tail tucked in tight coils against itself. No arguments, no excuses, no attempts at self defense, it lay itself low and waited.

"why you gotta take the fun out of everything?" Red grumbled, settling on the couch.

The snake lay there, motionless save for the one hand absently scratching at another dry flaky spot on its tail. The tiny twitches of his fingertips betrayed a frustrated ache that Red could only imagine sympathizing with (an incessant need to _pick, pick, pick,_ but never quite scratching that itch). The reflex again agitated those abandoned corridors in Red's mind, finally wrenching open a door he had fought too hard to keep locked since the beast arrived.

It wasn't just Sans that the lamia reminded Red of. He hated those memories of _her_ that he had locked away, stuffed in boxes marked off to be forgotten and yet never thrown out. The unfairness of it all rankled at Red, and the fact he still had the word _unfair_ in his fucking vocabulary was an embarrassment to his image he would take to his grave.

"i can get that off." The words left Red too smooth, too easy. He wondered if he should regret them.

The lamia's scratching hand froze, and for the briefest moment, the exaggerated innocent docility shattered to show the tension of someone trying very, very hard not to panic. Red couldn't help but find immense satisfaction watching the snake scramble to put the pieces back together.

"you've been here how long, and all you've done is shed. cant be all that comfortable." Red didn't look at the lamia directly as he spoke, making certain to give the frustrating prick plenty of emotional space. "i can get that shit off, then maybe ya might stop leaving dried ecto all over the carpet."

Red watched, taking in every bit of the lamia's body language, how it tilted its head to one side, slitted eyelights focusing and unfocusing as it shifted from one thought to another ( _like this, it was so much easier for Red to believe it was more than a dumb animal, for only someone who could overthink to the point of stupidity could waffle so gloriously when the choice was obvious_ ) while still trying to maintain a facade that it was quickly losing grip on, already beginning to default back to a defensive, neutral deadpan.

Finally, the snake sniffed the air with his tongue. "...ok."

Red stood, stuffing his phone in his pocket as he went about gathering what he would need. "stay put. your not gonna fit in the tub and we need you stretched out..." He found a few bath towels that were bigger than the others, and lay the bulk of them out flat on the livingroom floor, setting one aside for use later. "stretch out on these while i get the rest."

The lamia hissed softly in response (the noise lacking any hostility, soft white noise Red would attribute to acknowledgment) before slowly worming itself onto the towels. Red ducked into the bathroom, grabbing a bucket he filled with water as hot as their pipes would go, and a wash cloth he dropped in it to soak. By the time he came back to the livingroom, the lamia was laying on its belly with its head pillowed in its arms, fully stretched out on the length of towels.

Red sat down on the floor next to it, setting the bucket by its head. "bite me and i'll bite back," he warned again, smirking at the bloom of color he could just see settle on the snake's face before it hid deeper in its arms. Red pulled his coat off, setting it behind him before reaching for the now warm, damp cloth.

He was going to have fun with this.

The first strokes of cloth over ecto happened over the back of the lamia's ribs (they had to -- even if the skin layer was full of holes and flaking and uneven, it naturally needed to come off from the top down, and the scales grew out of the lamia's humanoid ribcage, from the bottom of the true ribs, around the false ones, over the lumbar to the pelvis, and then down further until the tail took on its proper serpentine structure), smoothing over the protruding porous bone and shimmering scales alike, both of which Red could appreciate as aesthetically pleasant. He heard the sharp intake of breath, followed by a sharp exhale. The prideful bastard in Red preened, his other hand settling on the lamia's scapula. "thats right. chill the fuck out."

The lamia shimmied side to side, restless, its energy keyed up. Red added a bit more pressure, scrubbing his warm, damp rag over the dried out scales until the layers began to peel back. It wasn't clean at first, the first few inches from the lip of where the ecto grew out of bone resistant to his demands, cracking, tearing, and flaking defiantly, but Red still knew how to apply patience (even if he pretended he didn't, if he let everyone else believe he had never cultivated that underappreciated skill): he would never quite have it like Sans, never quite so flexible or unhurried, but he knew when and how to play the long game when it suited him.

Red kept wetting the cloth, keeping it damp and warm and moving in smooth strokes, only ever applying a slight pressure. His other hand held the snake steady, keeping it still and in place with a firm hold. It was quiet work, the only sounds between them that of their steady breathing, the friction of cloth, and the occasional wet noise when Red had to dampen the cloth again. Slowly, Red worked the dying scales off, going down lower and lower until all of the shed was dislodged from the ribs to the pelvic area, leaving healthy, shining powder blue scales exposed at last to the air.

The lamia had gradually stopped squirming, only the occasional shivers quivering down its spine as Red worked.

"alright, turn over," Red ordered, pulling his steadying hand back. "wanna keep this even-ish going down. gotta get your front now." Red stood up, picking the water up in both hands. It was starting to cool by that point, and the last thing he needed was the dumb snake getting hypothermia. Leaving the creature to roll over on its own, Red went to dump the old water and get fresh, new, hot water.

He didn't think about what he might have decided to do instead had this occurred a year ago.

When Red came back, the lamia was laying on its back, hands clutched over its ribcage, wringing each other over its sternum. It stared resolutely at the ceiling, eyelights slivers of cold white backlight that refused to acknowledge Red's presence. Red could see where it had dislodged a few more flakes of ecto, claw marks conspicuous on its stomach. Red snorted, sitting back down and dipping the washcloth into the newly heated water.

Red put a hand over the snake's wrists, the intention to take full control again. Red didn't flinch when he felt how hard those slender bones were shaking, and nobody would ever know how close he had come to doing so. He stared at the snake, taking in how much stiffer his- _its_ posture was, how its tail kept trying to curl inward, making itself smaller.

"still here for this, slinky?" Red asked, watching the lamia's face.

Red got a flick of a forked tongue in response, a flicker of a glance, but otherwise the snake didn't move. It continued to pretend the ceiling was the most interesting thing in the world.

Red settled the warm cloth on the snake's midriff, wiping in those same smooth strokes from the exposed ribs to the area where the pelvis was settled. The tip of the lamia's tail thumped softly on the floor with each stroke, its breathing growing deeper, slower, until the thump was no more.

It was hard to decide which was the more satisfying tell, the brush of color across its face, the way its sockets drooped, or the way its tail went slack, its spine uncurling from its defensive stance to something limp and plaint and easy to work with (more _satisfying_ to work with, the way something under Red's hands was supposed to look if Red wasn't actively trying to end its existence or terrify it into submission).

As Red began to work his way lower down the snake's tail, he took his time appreciating it from so close: the damn thing did look like Sans, all slender fragility and soft curves, but it looked like Sans after he lost a fight with a razor, bones scuffed and scratched in too many places, likely marks that would never fade. Red couldn't help noticing that its neck was invitingly, temptingly unblemished, as if it had kept it safe for a special occasion.

Red's teeth were pretty special.

The damn snake's teeth were pretty special too, so much so they had their own venom. And something about that was _sexy_. Red let go of the snake's wrists, pulling his bucket of warm water with him as he shimmied a bit to the side to reach more of the tail that was slowly being revealed under the layer of dead skin. Before Red knew it, he had a snake's worth of shed skin piled up on the floor, milky and ripped and shredded.

"there, toldja i'd-" Red began, hand coming up to pat the newly shed tail in a gesture of a job well done, only to be cut off by a far-too-familiar strangled noise, the pseudo-flesh under his hand quivering and warm. Red forced himself to go still, concerned with how quickly his dick snapped into place in his shorts and his tongue manifested, ready for action.

The lamia pushed itself upright into the equivalent of a sitting position, bracing itself with one hand while the other gripped onto Red's wrist. The flush on its face was vibrant now, although it maintained that cold, stony expression (save for the wide, softened edges of its eyelights, the usually narrow slits nearly ovals).

Suddenly it was giftmas and new years and valentine's day all balled up into one crumpled mess of delicious. Red curled his fingers until just the clawed tips grazed lightly over the newly exposed pseudoflesh, watching as all eight feet of the snake shook and squirmed. "what's the matter? need something?"

The snake's next hiss was a bit more ragged, its grip slipping already.

Red could taste his victory, could easily go in for the proverbial kill and just take it. But he wanted to bask in his win a while, let the reptile stew a bit as revenge. "what? really? nothing at all? guess i mighta misread the situation. here i thought ya mighta needed a good dick down to help ya out."

The lamia swallowed, looking Red up and down appraisingly. It glanced back at the front door, sniffing the air with its tongue.

That longing puppy eyed expression fed into something ferel in Red, pleased. "heh. waiting for the boss, are we? well..." He dragged his claws lightly over the snake's tender tail once again. "if ya want, i think i can help ya with that too..."

Red was going to enjoy every second of it. Every damn second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was dripping in my headcanon that red and his alphys had a thing. and it didn't end great. so he might have issues
> 
> but this is also Sans-With-A-Snake-Tail and Red is a weak bastard for Sans
> 
> so he eventually just. gets over his whole lizard thing and uses what he knows from dating alphys to help lamia boi
> 
> Edge knows jack about reptiles or he would have done this a while ago. but he didnt know any better so he just thought it was a thing and ran the vaccum before bed every night
> 
> for those that dont know, snakes usually shed one whole piece, but when stressed they shed in pieces and thats not healthy. also, snakes tend to be grumpy and aggressive during shedding. (i only have surface knowledge of such things tho)
> 
> and most importantly, here is a wild red using his own annoyance at finding dead skin everywhere as an excuse to do soft aftercare things without admitting he likes doing soft aftercare things


	4. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge gets a text.

Edge felt the soft vibration of a text message coming to his phone sometime during a meeting. He ignored it, instead maintaining his full attention on his job. If it were important, Red would have called (as per protocol).

It was a few hours before Edge had a chance to even look at his personal phone again. When he saw the message, '4 ur eyez only wear headphones' he couldn't help rolling his eyelights. He wasnt quite sure what the video attachment was, but he knew if _Red_ was warning him, it was for a good reason.

Edge waited until he had a free moment alone, then went out to his car to use the headphones he kept in there.

It took a few minutes just to load the video. The first scene was a bit of a blur, more of Red's hand than anything else as he fumbled to get it situated properly. When Red stepped back, he had the biggest, most shit eating grin on his face. _"heya bro. just thought i'd help be your wingman this time around."_ He reached out of the camera's view, pulling the lamia into his lap, the snake's back against his chest and head tilted to expose his throat, where Red's hand how held firmly. _"got us here a bit of a problem see? look at this."_

Edge watched as Red's hand slid over shiny powder blue scales. Did the lamia always look that smooth and soft?

 _"slinky here just got the last of its shed off, so now it's all smooth and soft and **sensitive**."_ The way Red said the word was filthy, a vulgar epitaph that was proven absolutely true by the equally obscene noise the snake made at his seemingly benign touch. _"pitiful bastard's all needy now..."_

Red's hand went lower, until his index finger found the more spongy, puffy slit of the snake's cloaca (or was that a proper pussy? hard to tell from the video), and proved it by sliding inside to the knuckle. The lamia keened, his hands coming up to grip Red's arms for support. His tail thrashed, whole body squirming in that way that was more involuntary than any real effort to escape.

The usually quiet snake was rather vocal.

Edge's mouth went dry enough to ache, his eyes unable to look away.

Red's predatory smirk only widened as he kept his own gaze on the camera, staring at Edge as he worked his one finger slow and deep into the lamia. He added a second finger, never speeding up his work, keeping it achingly slow. The snake only grew louder, more desperate, undulating to encourage Red to give him more.

 _"look at it, boss. look how bad this slinky wants pounded."_ Red spread open the lamia's hole, giving Edge a perfect view of how soaking wet he was. _"go ahead, snake, tell him what you want."_ as he did, Red started using his thumb to massage at a bit of flesh at the apex of the hole, making the lamia cry out incoherently.

 _"bosssssssss,"_ the mewling snake finally managed, long, supple body still writhing uncontrollably, a bit of something wet leaking from the corner of his mouth to glisten in the dim light. _"pleasssssssse."_

Red wiggled his brows at the camera, his smirk telling Edge that he knew just what that noise was going to do to him, how painfully hard he was and how much of a struggle it would be not to crush his phone like a styrofoam cup in a car compactor. _"hear that? your pet's crying for ya. better hurry home. but don't worry-"_ Red started fingering the lamia again, pausing to let the snake's latest moan record unimpeded. _"-i'll keep it nice and entertained until ya get back, so its first orgasm can be around your dick."_

Another whimper from the snake came through before the video ended. Edge watched it twice more before Red's last little comment finally registered: _he was going to edge the lamia stupid until Edge came home._ Edge checked when the video text came through, his soul dropping to his lap when he realized how many hours it had been.

Shamefully, instead of worrying about the snake, Edge's mind immediately conjured up images of just how desperate he would be, how needy, how _ready_ , when he finally got home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was hardly any smut in this jfc  
> welp. thats it. thats the fic.
> 
> edge can't exactly leave work early, so that snake ends up waiting almost eight hours. being teased stupid by red. sans probably shows up and gives the snake a break by taking reds attention, and edge comes home to find all three of them horny, needy messes cuddled up in his bed (i can dream anyway)
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this mostly-setup-for-little-impact ficlet of a scenario where a lamia sans gets adopted inexplicably by the poly because the fell bros are weak and sans doesnt care

**Author's Note:**

> This clearly has a few holes and continuity issues but i like the setup.  
> theres a few scenes in my head i'd like to add to this au but i dont have the spoons for it rn  
> i hope yall enjoy it tho


End file.
